Fighting the Forbidden: Ruthless & Royal #1 by Autumn Jones Lake

Author:Autumn Jones Lake [Lake, Autumn Jones]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781961848023
Publisher: Ahead of the Pack, LLC
Published: 2024-01-25T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Griff

Sunday evening, Remy and I ride deep into the hills of Empire County to the Lost Kings MC clubhouse. If we hadn’t already been here before, I doubt we’d be able to find the place. As it is, we miss the unmarked turnoff and have to find somewhere on the narrow country road to turn our bikes around.

We stop at the tall iron gate and wait for someone to open it and let us through. We back our bikes into spots at the bottom of the long driveway and walk to the clubhouse—which looks more like a luxury log cabin.

“You ever heard of a motorcycle club with property like this?” I say to Remy in a low voice.

“Place used to be some sort of Buddhist yoga retreat center or something.”

I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “Explains the big Buddha statue down there.”

“They bought it for back taxes or something.” He elbows me. “Like we bought The Castle.”

“This is in infinitely better shape.”

“Yeah, but we’re landowners too—that’s all I’m saying.”

I guess that’s true in the same way that Great Danes and toy poodles are both canines.

Bright security lights illuminate the entire area around the clubhouse. We follow the curved driveway to what I guess is technically the “front” of the building. It’s full of neatly parked motorcycles, SUVs, and lifted trucks. Two huge garages stand adjacent to the main clubhouse. Farther back, I glimpse what looks like another house and a playground to rival what the richest school districts might have. Deep woods stand across from the clubhouse but through the trees, I catch glimpses of lights.

“I think most of the officers have built houses for their families back there,” Remy whispers.

“So, definitely stay out of their woods.”

“If we want to live, yeah.”

The front door’s open. But there’s no music or smoke pouring out like there has been the few times we’ve been here for MC parties. Instead, it’s all loud, rumbling male voices, women’s laughter, and children’s high-pitched squeals.

“Family night, indeed,” Remy says, pulling the screen door open. The place is a huge, log-cabin sort of building. High ceilings, exposed beams. A large staircase to our left is lined with framed photos. A generous leather sectional takes up the entire back wall and corner. The room’s full of bikers and their families.

Murphy notices us stepping inside first. The burly lumberjack-looking VP of the club grins and opens his arms wide. “Welcome.”

Murphy’s greeting draws everyone’s attention to us. We face a lot of steely-eyed biker glares. Didn’t Teller mention we were invited?

MCs are known for all their strict protocols and any perceived slight can get your ass kicked—or worse. While I try to be mindful and respectful of their rules, Remy approaches these gatherings with a whatever the fuck attitude that’ll probably get us killed one day.

Rock, the president of this charter, approaches us first, hand outstretched. “Thanks for joining us.” He shakes Remy’s hand, then mine.

“Appreciate the invite, sir,” I answer.

The corner of his mouth quirks. “Rock is fine.

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